


Cecil's Secret

by shella688



Series: fast-travel across the atlantic with this 1 weird tip [6]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: (mild spoilers for A Spy in the Desert), Cecil's secret, Cooking as a way to show you care, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Soft Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shella688/pseuds/shella688
Summary: Being a first-time parent is never easy, and the end of the world brings with it a whole host of new challenges the books never prepare you for.Nevertheless, Cecil is determined to be a good dad.
Relationships: Carlos & Helen (The Magnus Archives), Carlos/Cecil Palmer, Cecil Palmer & Helen (The Magnus Archives)
Series: fast-travel across the atlantic with this 1 weird tip [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540597
Comments: 22
Kudos: 181





	Cecil's Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Can't believe we're living in the timeline where Cecil and Carlos are dads.... :')

"Blood is indeed thicker than water, Night Vale. But water is wetter than sand, and sand soaks up blood. Our lives are one long game of rock-paper-scissors, listeners, and I have chosen to play with you.

Up next, the feeling you aren't alone. It is not a bad feeling, nor is it an especially good one. It simply is - so let it be.

Goodnight, Night Vale.

Goodnight."

Cecil switched off his microphone, running a hand through his hair. There had just been so much News recently! The Worm Meter changed almost daily, if not more, now and nearly the whole town had bet one way or another in the Which Fear Will Be Our Supreme Overlord Until The End Of Time betting pool.

(Loyalty to Helen meant he'd bet on the Twisting, but Carlos had his money pinned on the Burning.)

Still, his work day was over now. He could go home, see his family, enjoy a nice wormy cup of coffee.

Cecil glanced out the door. Station Management was nowhere to be seen - good, meant he could make his escape now. Grab your bag then out the door, fast as you can, down the corridor and watch out for sentient mould! Past the break room, don't look _don't look_ DON'T LOOK at the things in it keep going then you're out high and dry, at least until the Falling comes back with the floods.

It took a moment for Cecil to get his breath back. If nothing else, the end of the world was doing wonders for his fitness.

He waved goodbye to the station in general, then head off home.

* * *

"Hi honey!" came Carlos' voice from somewhere out of sight.

Cecil called back a greeting as he hung his coat - it was floor-length, furry and pink, very fetching in his opinion - next to Carlos' work lab coat. Sounds of clattering were coming from the kitchen, with any luck Carlos would be doing the sort of science that resulted in a nice meal at the end, as opposed to the one that left the oven covered in glowing goo.

He made his way into the kitchen.

It was hard to tell which science was going on.

There was something bubbling on the stove, something being mixed in a bowl and something small and flour-covered roaming the floor.

Cecil picked up the flour monster, cradling him, as he made his way over to Carlos.

"Hey bunny," he said, suddenly realising he'd run out of arms with which to hug his husband. He settled for pressing a kiss to the top of Carlos' head. "Is my favourite scientist aware there's a flour monster roaming the house?"

Carlos smiled fondly. Somehow there was flour smeared over his face too.  
"That flour monster has been waiting for you to get home from work for ages."

The monster in question giggled.  
"I'm Esteban! Not flour monster, silly!"

"Does you mean," Cecil gasped dramatically, "that this flour monster is my _son_?"

Esteban nodded happily. He pressed one small, flour-covered hand on Cecil's cheek, leaving behind a dusty imprint. Cecil felt like he'd joined a secret society - but one of the good ones, where you get paid leave and dental.

"This is wheat and wheat-byproduct free, right babe?" Cecil murmured.

"Don't worry Cece - this house is completely wheat-free. Although from a purely scientific standpoint it would be fascinating to see the wheat interact with all this..."  
Carlos trailed off, lost in his science thoughts.

There was a beat before Cecil spoke.  
"Hey, what's cooking?"

"Food," said Esteban, anointing his dad with yet more flour.

"Yes, Esteban, food! Auntie Helen's coming over tonight, so I figured I make a classic British meal. There's mashed potato in the oven, some turnips boiling, I'm making Yorkshire puddings right now, and a curry sauce to round it off." Carlos looked at the batter he had been mixing skeptically, then pulled a spirit level out the pocket of his cooking lab coat as he crouched down to get a better look.

"Aw that sounds really nice! When's she coming?"

"-" Carlos began, only to be interrupted by a knocking at the door.

Or, more specifically, _a_ door. A faded, yellow door. It could have been there ever since the house had been built, but for the fact that it hadn't existed until a few moments ago and didn't exist now, if you wanted to be picky about it.

Esteban cheered as his dad set him on the floor, running up to the new door.  
"Auntie Helen!"

The door swung open, creaking in a way that smelt vaguely of damp. Many groups can be defined by how they dress, from families to cliques to cults. It's telling then, that Helen - wearing no less than three clashing patterns and looking like a bowling alley carpet had got up and gone for a stroll - had the most subdued outfit of the lot of them.

"And how's my favourite Esteban?" she asked, picking him up with too-big hands. She had been afraid - no, concerned, no, worried, no - _afraid_ at first, not wanting to hurt him. Esteban, however, loved clambering over her sharp fingers. Indeed, that's what he was doing now, and Helen felt her heart melt and pool in her boots.

"Need a hand Sci- Carlos?" Helen tried her best to speak around the flour being applied to her face.

"No but thanks. Once these are in the oven we just have to wait."

Helen grabbed a pen off the counter to snack on in the meantime.

* * *

"Po- _tay_ -to," Esteban said, seriously as he could manage.

"I'll show you how to evade taxes after tea, Esteban." Helen reached out a hand to ruffle his hair.

"Helen!" Carlos admonished. "He's two and a half!"

She shrugged.  
"If you insist. Esteban, do you know what identity theft is?"

Carlos sighed a heavy, long-suffering sigh. It was fond though, it was far from the first disagreement over Esteban's... _education_ , and certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Our son does need a well-rounded education," Cecil commented, dipping a spoonful of mashed turnip into the curry sauce. "It's never too early to set a good example to the younger generation."

* * *

Sitting still for long times tended to make Esteban stressed, so he and Carlos had put the meal on pause to go investigate the spider society out in in the garden.

Helen took a breath. Creatures of impossible logic do not fit well with words, but she had something to say.  
"The world's ended, Cecil. Yet we're here, eating home cooked food, watching your son investigate the outside. An outside claimed by the Mother of Puppets no less."

"The Mothe- oh! You mean the Leading? It's no different to our thoughts being controlled by the World Government through cell phone signals."

She made a low humming sound.  
"It's just all so... human."

"But the world hasn't ended yet; at least, I do not think so. Things only die when they are forgotten and so our perception of this world still counts for _something_ whilst we have it, even if it will be lost forever.

And this is not just a human thing, because humans are only primates who started telling stories. This is a person thing - whether those people be humans or faceless old women or five-headed dragons or people like you and Jon. It is a person thing, because you are here with me now, just as I am here with you. You are my _friend_ , Helen, and I wouldn't choose otherwise."

Helen looked at Cecil in surprise, then nodded. He had a point, long winded and vaguely ominous though it was.

"How-" Cecil hesistated, like he was unsure of the answer he wanted to receive. "How are Jon and Martin?"

Helen could lie. She could speak so her meanings twisted in on themselves and Cecil was left doubting what he had asked in the first place. It would be so easy, now more than ever. But she looked across the table to Cecil - her friend - and found that she didn't want to do any of that.  
"I don't know, and... I wouldn't want to guess," she replied. "Don't look too hard at these things Cecil - you never know whose Eyes might look back."

"I hope they're safe," said no-one, because no life is ever safe from harm.

But maybe, they both hoped, whatever life Jon and Martin had created together made the harm more bearable, dying world be damned.

* * *

Cecil was drinking the last of the curry sauce straight out the jug.

"It has been nice seeing you three again," Helen said. She speared a lumpy white mound with her fork. "Is this the mashed potato? It was good."

Cecil shook his head.  
"Oh, no that's the turnip. The potato is the black stuff."

Helen raised an eyebrow.  
"Human food is so quaint."

"Hey Helen?" This was from Carlos, who had Esteban on his lap. "Can we do one of these at your place sometime? I know Esteban would love to see your corridors."

"It's not exactly designed for humans-" she began, but Esteban was looking at her with those big round eyes and her heart had _just_ started to solidify again damn it.  
She sighed.  
"First, you should know about anchors."

**Author's Note:**

> Postscript: Cecil and Carlos are _absolutely_ each other's anchors. Couldn't fit it into the fic but just know it's true
> 
> Shout at me on tumblr! [regicidal-defenestration](https://regicidal-defenestration.tumblr.com/)


End file.
